Conversational Piece
by The Oddity
Summary: Triela can be such a sweettalker sometimes. Shoujo ai, ClaesTriela.


_author's note_

This was actually written before Sheo's 'fic "Admissions", and yes, it does make a reference to one of XTragicxBeautyX's stories.

Set around volumes six-seven. Enjoy.

**CONVERSATIONAL PIECE**

"Hey, Claes."

"Mmhmm?"

"Remember that makeover I gave Henrietta a while ago..."

"No."

"What?"

"I said, no. Don't even think about it."

"But _Claes_—!" the German blonde whined. "You'd look so cute with your hair up in little pigtails..."

"Why do I need to look nice? I don't have a Giuseppe to 'wow'. There would be no point."

"You don't want a little confidence boost every now and then...?"

"Not especially." The bookworm sat up, her legs waving in the air. "I'm confident enough as it is."

Triela sighed, rising from her chair. She made her way to her roommate and sat down beside her, slinging one arm around the girl in an almost drunken manner.

"Oh, the infallible Claes! So mighty, so confident, a staple of femininity!" she sang.

"Shut _up_." An irritant shove.

"Ouch. That actually hurt."

"I'm so sure."

"No, seriously, I bet it bruised."

"I doubt it."

"I'm positive."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"...Will you just take a look?"

Claes sighed. "Ugh, fine. You're so childish sometimes. Lift up your shirt."

The darker of the two smirked. "Ooh, kinky. I like that."

"It's not that way!"

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_, I'm sure."

"Even...if I do this?"

The sound of raindrops pattering on the window filled Claes's ears as Triela's warm, comforting body pushed against hers. Their lips only really brushed together; hardly as intense as some of the 'romance novels' Claes liked to read in her spare time, but ending with a satisfying sound and a brief fluttering in their stomachs that could've compensated for any lack of tongue.

She was the first to speak up, after a small pause. "So, uh."

Triela was noticeably tentative. "...Yeah."

"Mmhmm."

"...Yeah..."

"...Well, it wasn't anything out of Annalee Blysse's works."

"Annalee Blysse?"

"Romance writer. Sometimes writes erotic novels. Into futuristic and paranormal elements."

"Erotic, hmm… Well, we could _make_ it like something out of Annalee Blysse's works."

"Triela, if you're trying to flirt, you're really not good at it."

"That hurts. I put a lot of effort into learning how to flirt with my roommate who has lived with me in the same dorm for years now and also happens to be entirely female."

"Then you should refocus that energy."

"Into something more...productive?"

"...I see where this is going. Can you just let me finish reading my book?"

"But I want to touch your hair."

"..._No_."

"It looks so soft!"

"Sorry. You'll only touch my hair in the unlikely event that I'm drugged out of my mind and in bed."

"I don't know so much about the former, but the latter sounds appealing right about now."

"Triela."

"Yes?"

"Quit it. You're creeping me out."

"I think it's cute that the notion of being in bed with me seems so weird to you."

"Why shouldn't it?"

Triela frowned. "Well, look at it this way: it's not as if there's a lot of guys our age in the Agency."

"That's your excuse for lesbianism?"

"...Well, yeah. That, and you're just so drop-dead gorgeous that I'd love to jump your artificial bones."

"How sexy."

"I know. I practiced that line five times in a mirror every day."

"You really have no life. What happened to that bruise of yours?"

"It's still there. Want to see?"

"I suppose. I still say it's entirely fictional."

"Alright."

A rustling of fabric and Triela lifted her collared shirt up. Claes examined her roommate's dark side for any unnoticeable bruises, and when her eyes began trailing up the girl's bra, she forcibly made herself tug the blonde's shirt back down.

"I didn't see any bruise."

"I don't think you were looking at my side."

"How do you know?"

"I have a knack for that."

"...Triela, you can go stuff a Hillshire Farms sausage up your bum and call that 'having a knack for stuffing sausages in my rear'. I'm sure you have anything but a knack for noticing when girls are looking at your bra."

"_Aha_," she murmured triumphantly, twisting an errant strand of Claes's short black hair around her finger. "So you admit it. You were looking."

"I didn't admit anything."

"Then how did you know I knew you were looking at my bra?"

"How do you know that I know that you knew that I was looking at your bra?"

"How do you know that you know that I knew that you knew that I was looking at your bra?"

"How do you know that you know that you know that I knew that you knew that I was looking at your bra?"

"How do you know that you know that you know that you know that I knew that you knew that I was looking at your bra?"

"...This is ridiculous. Just kiss me again. And like you mean it."

"Hooray! Triela: 1, Claes—"

"One-hundred. Now come here."


End file.
